Mustaches

This past weekend, H-ette and Broseph participated in El Dia Del Mustache...also known as the Day of the Mustache. This is an annual competition for mustache glory, during which throngs of participants grow, cultivate, theme-select, and show off their staches in front of one another, sort of like the Westminster Dog Show, only they are men. With staches.

This year, H-ette and Broseph participated in the event, cultivating their own staches for weeks. They believed they had some good growth - and H-ette even Just For Men'd his hairy upper lip Jet Black to really drive home points. BTW, this is a look I hope to never revisit, H-ette.

So on Saturday, I had the distinct pleasure of witnessing my brother, dressed in full regalia, as Magnum P.I. -- and H-ette dressed as Metallica's security/roadie guy. 

Their day involved (but was not limited to) sharing a limo ride from Westchester to Manhattan with no fewer than six other grown men with mustaches, 7 or so hours in the diviest dive bar the city has to offer (I can attest, I had to smell them both afterwards), and one measly nomination, which went to Broseph for his Magnum interpretation. He lost, however, to what was described as a serious stache-devoted Selleck impersonator.

Congrats, boys. It's good to have your faces back. I'm glad there are no more children to potentially frighten with your molester-esque face sweaters.

This is just WRONG

Forget about all the cliches involved - If this doesn't go against every code of Top Chef ethics, I don't know what does. My thoughts? Fire Padma from her Top Chef hostess duties...and hire Ette2!!!!

Scarlet loses herself

H-ette is definitely going to be P.O.'d when he sees this pic...Scarlet has not only dyed her lovely locks auburn, but she seems to have lost her top shelf status, if you will.

Score one for the Ettes...

UPDATE

That 13 year old kiddie who supposedly fathered the child in England? Yeah, he's not the baby daddy. It was apparently all a lie hatched by the baby mama's mama. Which begs the question...who could possibly be the real baby daddy, and is it even humanly possible that the REAL baby daddy's identity is scarier or grosser than hatching a plan to name a 13-year old as such??

Yikes. Big Mama needs a psychiatric eval. Stat.

Stealing this for Halloween

Why?

Elisabeth Hasselback, that loudmouth, right-wing staunchy wench who keeps getting knocked up and parades around on The View criticizing the rest of us just launched a line of clothing. Now I know what you're thinking...who the hell cares, right? Well no-one, really...but it's almost too ridiculous to let pass us by here on Kvetchette. Let's take a quick little look-see, shall we?

Let's start with this number....

That is one sexy shirt.

Let's end with this ensemble, before your eyes start to hurt:

Whoa...that is so fashionally aspirational I don't even know where to begin. Yeah, that's right, I just used "fashionally." A line such as this deserves some nonsense.

And I can't get a job???? Something is way wrong in river city.

Creativity

I've been wallowing in a lot of self-pity these days. The world seems to be going to hell in a handbasket (btw, what exactly is a handbasket?) and I have just sunk into the depressing pit of it all. It's time for me to get off my arse and be creative. Had a fun date with a girlfriend yesterday, and she's all making things, and training puppies, and re-porcelaining clawfoot tubs - I didn't even know you could do this yourself, but she is doing it. And she's looking at this whole economic downturn from an artist's perspective. I need her positive outlook. If some of the best ideas come out of a recession, it's time for me to get idea-izing...or thinking, as it were.

So here are some of my creative ideas - I'd love to hear your thoughts.

1) Turn Casa Country into a working farm. It could be the first Westchester Kibbutz! If H-ette and I get a couple chickens, a couple turkeys and some lambs and just let them roam within the confines of the electric dog fence, they can procreate and we can start zapping them off and eating them - certainly cuts down on the grocery bill, and we won't end up with turkey-sausage problems like we did the other night - no idea what was in those links from Stew Leonard's, but it sure wasn't turkey...

2) Graffiti the exterior of the house, a la Stephen Sprouse. This would take "curb appeal" up to a whole new level, really making ours stand out from the pact...cars would start slowing down and taking pictures, and we may even get some exposure on HGTV's "What's With That House?"

3) Move all the furniture outside. It's getting warmer, this could be fun. I wonder what it would feel like to move my tempurpedic outdoors and sleep under the stars...

4) Create a hot air balloon out of hundreds of regular balloons. Attach them all to a bicycle and then attempt to ride off into the sunset like ET.


I'm just getting started with this...the possibilities are endless.

Here's what's got me all worked up this week

I'm totally upset about this whole LeAnn Rimes cheating thing. I don't care or ever think about her, I'm just sad for her husband and that dude's wife. The cheaters both put out statements basically denying the whole thing, but US had video of them at a restaurant holding hands the whole time and kissing. So sad for their spouces, and it made me think of sad sack Jennifer Aniston - that shit was happening to her too and she was none-the-wiser. I just think being famous makes you cheat - I'm so stressed about Jon and Kate - I'm choosing not to believe a word of rumors about them. Pants is on a constant quest to be famous, so I secretly plot in my head how to derail those efforts. Sorry Pants

I'm also ticked off but not surprised that stupid Gretchen is dating Slade. But I will say that girl looks good in a bathing suit.

The whole Natasha Richardson thing is super sad, but made more so because Liam Neeson's wife in Love Actually died, and he was all sad and it was really sad and now life if repeating art. Sad

Finally, I'm going to Florida and it's scheduled to rain everyday this weekend.

All around a bummer.

It looks like he's walking her home from nursery school

divorced in a year

Everybody's Doing It

Everybody's talking about the recession. The Depression. The aggression. Blah Blah Blah. You know who's really to blame for this recession? The media, that's who. Not the banks. Last time I checked, my FDIC checking account has only dwindled in dollars because of my own spending habits, not because of some stupid broker getting a bonus check. No, the media is to blame (earmuffs, Pants, I'm about to let loose).

The media with all of this sad, depressing, woe is us crap. "So and so declared bankruptcy....so and so hung themselves in their office after learning their life savings had been depleted....so and so lost their job...." Well of course we are going to go into panic mode and stop spending our money and living our lives and being all commerce-able like usual!! On one channel you are telling me to save save save, b/c I should have 7000-times my mortgage in my bank account for a rainy day, or just in case the apocalypse happens, and then I switch channels and it's all "you better go out there and spend and tickle the old economy bone or else the world as we know it will crumble and it will all be your fault." Well which is it?? We are already a nation of confused, over-spending worker bees, and now it's all about Save! Spend! Save! Spend! The guilt alone could drive us all to drugs! Or worse - poverty!

I think the media should change course. Lie to the public, like they've always done in the past. Tell us how great things are. Tell us what we want - no, scratch that - what we NEED to hear to get off our fat arses and go back to life as usual. All I need is someone to tell me "Hey! Guess what!! It was all a bad dream! You can wake up now and go to Anthropologie and pick out something cute and spring-like to wear..." and I am there in 14 seconds flat with my Visa card cutting gashes into my tightly wound fist.

So all you media influencers...you twitterers, you facebookers and myspacers and writers and bloggers...let's try a new tactic. Let's try one of these stupid chain messages, okay? Copy and paste this message into your blog, or email, or page or whatever, and send it out to everyone you know. Be a real influencer.

"The recession is over! Spring has sprung! It was all blown out of proportion. We can go back to normal life. Go back to your old boss who fired your ass and tell him you will not hold it against him and then just go sit back down at your old desk, where your stapler still resides. Get out there to the mall and buy some new spring duds. Stop making your kids eat the crap grocery store brand of cereal. Pick up the tab for that gaggle of ho's at the club. And whatever you do, don't break this chain mail, or you will be subject to clipping coupons and drinking Bud light for the rest of your days..."

Argh bagpipes

OK, I don't want to hate on someone else's culture and all, and far be it for me to knock on a holiday where you booze all day long - but seriously, the bagpipes are making me crazy. What kind of stupid instrument is that?! I'm sitting here in my office right off 5th avenue and 45th which is bagpipe central right now. All I can concentrate on is the whining, screech of air being forced through tiny pipes sticking out of what must be a cow uterus. It's painful.

Halloween for Jews!

It's Purim and before you enjoy your scrumptious triangle cookies, let me tell you why we celebrate today. (BTW no one freaking gifted me any cookies, which kind of ticks me off - it's my year of getting gifts, engagement, 30th bday, wedding - I'm used to people giving me stuff - Pants/Sisette maybe think about that - let's keep this ball rolling, no prune flavor though.) Anyway, here's how the story goes.

Hot Jewess, with non-hot Jew name Esther, catches the Persian king's eye, we'll call him Achu (his name always reminded me of a sneeze). So Achu is into her big Jew booty and he invites her to join his harem - but she keeps her Jewiness to herself, because it's hard out there for a Jew. Achu has an evil henchman named Haman who wears a stupid hat and hates on us because we're so pimpin. He especially hates Esther's uncle who is an out of the closet Jew because he won't bow down or some shit like that. So Haman the henchman gets all up in the kings ear and is like "yo those Jews got to go," and stupid Achu is like "whatevs, do what you want, I'm busy with a harem of bitches up in this piece." So of course Esther and her uncle Manishevitz freak out and try to figure out a plan to stop Haman. Since women do all the work, Esther fasted for three days to get really tight and in shape and then went to the king and was like "if you want any of my hot Jew booty anymore, you got to stop Haman." Achu was like, "man did you lose some weight - looking good baby" and then hangs Haman.

I don't really know if there is a moral to the story. I think it might be that skinny people usually get their way, or that Jewish women can be manipulative. Either way, we celebrate. We do so by dressing up like the characters in the story and eating triangle cookies that remind us of Haman's hat - I don't really understand why but we're eating cookies so I don't question.

Happy Purim!!

Doggy Dreams

Credit goes to Cuzette Shari for this one. She works YouTube like a senior citizen on the beach with a metal detector.

huh?

I don't even understand what is going on here. What on earth is this 13-year old talking about? Shouldn't he be outside getting fresh air and shooting at birds with his BB gun? Where does a 13-year old even acquire this information? He uses the word FERVOR?!? And he keeps overusing the words ideology and principles..I am getting a headache just watching this three minute video.

If this was my kid I would smack him. Mister smarty pants....

Now here's what I call appropriate child political involvement. This child makes no excuses for his adolescence:

Born to Kvetch

I was given a book by lawyer-ette and her adorable husband head-ette about how Kvetching is an integral part of the Yiddish language and thus Jewish culture. The first page tells a story, it goes something like this…

An older man is sitting on a busy commuter train opposite a guy in his mid-forties who’s trying to read the paper. The old man pretty loudly states, “Boy am I thirsty.” And he does it again, several times, a bit louder. “Boy am I thirsty.” “I sure am thirsty.” The guy with the paper is clearly annoyed but he gets up and goes to a water spout at the end of the train car, he fills one cup full of water and starts to head back, he thinks again and goes to fill a second cup. Then he walks carefully along the aisle trying not to spill the water and stands in front of the old man and offers him the cup. The old man smiles and accepts and downs the water in two gulps, before he can speak again, the guy hands him the second cup and he gladly drinks that too. Feeling put out, but satisfied that he can now go enjoy his paper in peace, the guy takes his seat and resumes reading. Then he hears, “Boy was I thirsty.”

Hee hee, funny right. That’s a Jew for you. We don’t complain out of bodily necessity, we do it because it’s who we are and we can. And because you guys think it’s funny – and if you don’t think that’s true then just try to explain Larry David. Nuff said.

Point of this post you ask?

It’s tri-fold:

1. I haven’t posted in a while and had to come up with something.

2. It helps explain this site's existence and how 2 and I tick.

3. Prove to friends that I actually am reading b-day gift – well first page at least.

He's Just Not That Into...Any of You

---or, He's Sort of Into...All of You.

Let's ponder. Guy gets dissed on The Bachelorette - in front of all of America, his glassy, Visine-induced tears pleading for the nation (or the TV-execs) to take pity on his non-love-finding soul and give him more airtime. So they give this douche his own show. "ooh, how brilliant! The love-scorned bachelor-to-be becomes The Bachelor and we continue the saga." Yay for you. And these TV execs are probably getting paid bonuses that rival Wall Streeters.

So anyway, they give this guy the spotlight to find his leading lady. He blows through 20 of them (some literally, I imagine, giving the sounds you hear behind closed doors), giving each the same pitiful lines (does this guy not remember that all of this is being filmed and will come out later that he used the same stupid lines on each of them??) He pimps his kid Ty out on national TV - gotta find a hot Milf-y stepmom for you, son...where is this kid's mother through this all?? She gets the big Loser sticker for this one, as dad's in and out of hot tubs with the bikini clad biatches and "Ty" is asleep in the other room...what is this - The Flavor of Love??


Anyway, so guy breaks all the hearts as he's supposed to do for the show, and it's down to two lucky ladies, Molly and Melissa. They both profess their love to him, in the form of "It's so unbelievable, but I've completely fallen in love with you." Yeah, no you haven't. You've fallen in love with the fame, and with the prospect of a fatty Neil Lane diamond and all the potential Good Morning America's and Trista and Ryan-esque sponsor deals you might come into. But whatev - they say they're in love, who am I to judge? So anyway, he chooses Melissa. He breaks Molly's heart in the process, telling her, "you have to know everything we had was so real, from the very beginning I was falling for you...and you, and you, and you (points to each of the girls past)."

So Molly goes home, heartbroken - she tells him on her way out, "you're making a big mistake, Mister." Well, as luck would have it, Molly was right. So last night, this D O U C H E brings Melissa back in front of the world to tell her, "hey, I know we've only been engaged for 6 weeks now, and I professed my love to you and chose you but I made a mistake, and I am not falling for you anymore, I love Molly." And takes the f-ing FREE RING that Neil Lane provided him with back from her. And then to just put salt on the wound, and really drive home ratings, they bring Molly back out for a reunion and he professes his love to her - all of five minutes later. She gleefully accepts with open arms.


Now Molly, we have to talk. I wanted to like you. I did like you. Until last night when you made a complete ass of yourself in front of the world by taking this guy back after everything you've watched on the show since it started airing. You've now seen all the juicy, behind the scenes details, the embraces, the "I'm falling HARD for you" bull hicky. You watched with your own eyes his half-arsed proposal (it could have only been half-arsed, he's only known her a few weeks anyway and he was making out with 14 other girls during their entire courtship - sounds like a keeper!) and now you want to pick up where you left off? Girl, you are beautiful. You seem pretty smart, normal, nice. All I have to say is "you are making a mistake." Run like hell. Love isn't supposed to smell like some other woman's DKNY perfume. And that ring isn't supposed to be warm from someone else's finger. It's a sham. If you want to know what real love is like, come visit H-ette and I. You'll see what our interaction signifies. He farts, I laugh. I snort while laughing, he laughs. This is love. You'll see.